


Boiling Point

by prophet_of_troy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Albus Dumbledore Being an Asshole, Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Harry Potter Angst, Harry is a Little Shit, Protective Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus is angry, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prophet_of_troy/pseuds/prophet_of_troy
Summary: Sirius is dead and all Harry knows how to feel is anger. All Remus knows is self-pity. Minerva McGonagall only knows grief.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: HP UnHappily Ever After Fest 2020





	Boiling Point

For weeks after Harry only had to close his eyes to see the out of place fear on Sirius’ face as he fell back into the whispering curtain. Fear and surprise, part of his face still gloating as though it hadn’t yet registered that he lost. In Harry’s dreams, worse yet than his nightmares, Sirius fell through the misty archway only to appear a moment later on the other side, with decidedly less grace than he’d entered it. Then Harry woke, expecting to hear Sirius’ barking laugh at something Ginny said. It felt like losing him all over again when he remembered, and at the same time like Sirius could still be out there somewhere. Perhaps he was hiding in another cave somewhere like before, waiting for he and Ron and Hermione to come find him. 

“He’s gone,” Professor McGonagall told him the first time he woke from such a dream, with such a notion. 

“No,” he argued, sitting up and pulling his covers back to stand with a sense of panicked urgency. “You don’t understand. He-he went through the other side. He’s  _ waiting  _ for me.”

She was sitting beside his bed with a long forgotten tome closed in her lap. Were he not so preoccupied he might have noticed the tissues on the bedside table, seen the tears in her eyes. Heard the hoarseness in her voice. “Mister Potter, it doesn’t work like that. The Veil doesn’t work that way.”

“No. No, he’s out there. He might be hurt- we need to find him!”

His head spun when he stood, from exhaustion and stress and a headache that had persisted since the vision that lead him to the Department of Mysteries in the first place. He grabbed the table to stable himself and McGonagall stood at once to help him, her book falling to the floor. She ignored it, stepping over it and trying to usher him back to bed with whispered assurances that everything would be okay. He fought, pushing her hands away with his mind still half asleep as he tried to pass her. 

“Mister Potter, stop this. He’s not there. He’s gone.”

“No! You don’t  _ know _ him-”

She grabbed his forearms tight, pulling him to look at her. She was crying, her face pained and pleading. “He’s  _ dead _ , Harry! Sirius is  _ dead _ and he’s not coming back.”

Harry stopped, coming back to the present. His true memory replaced the dream in his mind and he felt his face heat up. The first tear had only just slipped out when she embraced him tighter than Mrs. Weasley’s tightest hug. He clung to her and she made soothing sounds.

“I know,” she whispered into his hair. “I loved him too.”

For weeks he woke up from traitorous dreams, but Harry only had to close his eyes to see the out of place fear on Sirius’ face as he fell back into the whispering curtain- not to be seen again. For years after it would be his shame that his first thought that afternoon in the Department of Mysteries, was that he now had no hope of escaping the Dursley’s without his godfather; Uncle Vernon and his thick belt- the one he kept only for Harry, Aunt Petunia and her frying pan, Dudley and his gang. He was angry; at himself for not listening to Hermione, at Sirius for leaving the stifling and relative safety of Grimmauld Place, and at Hermione and Remus both for not having better control over their friends. Surprisingly, Bellatrix Lestrange was low on the list of people he blamed.

Can you blame a dementor for stealing happiness? For doing what was in their nature? He didn’t blame the Death Eater for seizing her moment. He blamed everyone else for letting her. 

Himself for letting her. 

Professor McGonagall came every day to check on him until Madame Pomfrey, or more likely Professor Dumbledore, would finally let him leave the Hospital Wing. She would ask how he was feeling then disappear behind a divider a few beds over where Hermione was still recovering; barely stable and unconscious more often than not. Other than McGonagall and the mediwitch, he saw and spoke to no one. There  _ was _ no one else. He discovered through his Head of House that Mrs. Weasley had taken Ron and Ginny home, with the two of them done with their exams and healed from the ordeal. Neither Neville or Luna had come back to the Hospital Wing since leaving it the morning after Sirius died. Part of Harry was grateful for the solitude, knowing he was no fit company, but it still served in adding to his anger- the storm raging just under his skin. 

A week into his kidnapping, which is what he angrily called it in his head, he woke to find Dumbledore having a quiet conversation with Madame Pomfrey- of which the matron was losing and seemed quite put out with him. He started towards the end of his bed and Harry quickly sat up, not wanting to be laying down when the headmaster finally answered all of his questions, but the airy, grandfatherly smile on his face told Harry not to expect such decency today. 

“Ah,” the man said somewhat cheerfully, which angered Harry to start off with. How dare he. Sirius’ death aside, how dare this man be so cheerful when yet again he was keeping so many secrets and controlling Harry’s life by not letting him leave the Hospital Wing. “Harry. I am glad to see that you are awake. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Harry forced himself to say. He didn’t terribly feel like explaining that Dumbledore’s existence was disturbing him. That Madame Pomfrey’s existence and everyone  _ alive  _ were disturbing him. There weren’t words. “It gets boring in here.”

Dumbledore adopted a commiserating expression and he nodded, patting the bed’s frame. “I imagine it does. Perhaps I could ask Professor McGonagall to bring you a book or two to pass the time? Perhaps, Quidditch Over the Ages?”

“How about the Barrister’s Guide to Inhumane House Arrest instead?” Harry spat. Dumbledore looked startled. “Or maybe a book on what the hell is going on? Or a book about meddling headmasters? Or a  _ book _ TELLING ME HOW I SHOULD FEEL ABOUT ALL OF THIS BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL EVEN TALK TO ME!!! But I don’t suppose you have any of those in that library of yours, so no. I would not like Quidditch of the Ages.”

Harry crossed his arms and glared at the twinkle returning to Dumbledore’s eyes after his outburst. The headmaster tilted his head pityingly at him and nodded to himself. “It is understandable that you are upset. I wish I could but ease your suffering.”

“You could start by letting me leave the Hospital Wing,” he growled. “Even Madame Pomfrey says there’s no reason for me to be here. You could start by telling me what everyone’s been keeping from me all year, or why you’ve been avoiding me all year, or why Voldemort wants to kill me in the first place, because it seems a bit more personal than just finishing what he started when he went to kill my parents.”

“I cannot, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore told him sadly. “Soon I will tell you everything, I will give you all the answers you ask for and more, but for now I cannot. Stay here, where you can grieve and rest, and then I will tell you the story.”

Harry was momentarily placated and Dumbledore walked towards the door before Harry stopped him, angry again. “Will you really answer everything, or will I just  _ feel _ like you did when you’ve just dodged everything?”

There was no answer and Dumbledore looked pensive for a second before turning back with his airy, grandfatherly smile. “Rest, Harry.”

Remus came two hours after Dumbledore, while Harry was still fuming and ready to boil over. He was waiting for McGonagall, in hopes he would tell her about his visit with the headmaster and either she would explain to him in a way to get rid of the pressure in his head, or she would complain too about Dumbledore and he would be thoroughly distracted. 

She was perhaps one of three people he wasn’t actively thinking hateful thoughts about, and focusing his ire on the bright sunshine streaming cheerfully in through the stained glass windows- wondering how the sun could dare, how the world could dare keep turning with Sirius no longer in it. 

He came in quietly, looking at his feet with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He reached the end of Harry’s bed before he lifted his head and Harry felt a twinge of pity for him before he remembered he was angry. 

Remus looked tired. Like a man broken. Like someone just as angry with the world as Harry was.

“Dumbledore said you would still be here.”

Hate bubbled in Harry’s chest at the headmaster’s name. None of this would have happened if Dumbledore hadn’t let Umbridge take over, hadn’t avoided and ignored him all year. He growled and glared at Remus in Dumbledore’s absence. “He would know. He’s the one keeping me here.”

“He just wants what’s best for you,” Remus replied automatically. Despondently.

“Like he knew what was best for Sirius?” Harry all but snarled.

Remus flinched and Harry took pleasure in it, in the flicker of something other than self pity in the werewolf’s eyes. Maybe that was what he needed. To fight. He felt like fighting. He felt like hurting someone. 

“It’s not his fault, Harry. He couldn’t possibly have known-”

“Why didn’t you make Sirius stay home?”

There was silence and he and Remus were watching each other steadily. For a moment Harry thought Remus would let go whatever it was that made his eyes gleam gold at Harry’s stab. But then they faded back to their normal blue-green and Remus sagged.

“Don’t you think I tried?” He asked. “Time was of the essence and no one could tell Sirius what to d-”

“You should have tried harder,” Harry accused. “You could have tied him up or something,  _ made _ him stay.” 

There was another beat of silence and steady staring, Remus’ eyes slightly narrowing at him- his brows furrowing. 

“Stop it. I know that you’re angry, I know that you’re hurt, but starting a fight with me isn’t going to bring him back. I think perhaps I should leave.”

He turned to do so, his hands never having left his pockets and- despite meeting Harry’s eyes- his face still downwards. Harry listened to his footsteps until they reached the door.

“You’re a coward,” he shot out before he could think better of it. Remus stopped, partially hidden behind the large open door, with only his hand visible on it, and the back of his head lifted finally at the last effort attempt to insult and provoke him. There was a sudden thickness to the air, but Harry kept going. “That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? You were too much of a coward to stand up to my dad, and then you were too much of a coward to stand up to Sirius.”

The response wasn’t immediate, but when he did finally speak Remus’ voice was measured like a knock; even and calm. “And how are you any braver? You watch your friends abuse each other at every turn, ready to choose the winner’s side for fear either will leave you; whether it be Ronald that dismisses Hermione for her intelligence and ambition, or she that dismisses him for his lack thereof. Tell me truly how that makes you any better- any less of a coward than I?”

Remus’ rebuttal hit Harry harder than he expected, and it wasn’t until Remus said it that he realized that was exactly what he did. He recoiled, but Remus was still facing away and hidden behind the door.

“All friends fight sometimes,” he said.

“Even a decent friend would act as peacemaker, not an audience,” Remus said without hesitation.

Harry was getting what he wanted, realizing only as he did that he didn’t really want it at all, and at the same time he was desperate for more. There was that piece of him- perhaps just as self loathing as the other man- that needed to hear someone else confirm what he already thought of himself. 

“It’s different,” he said quietly, retreating.

“The only difference,” Remus replied, his voice hard, “is that Sirius, James and I never treated each other like that, and we’d have never asked the others to put themselves in danger for us.”

Harry wished Remus would look at him now, either to see that his words hit their mark and he would stop, or so Harry could see the simmering rage under Remus’ expression. His profile, which was all that Harry could see of his face, was tight and unwavering. Harry’s eyes darted to the divider which hid Hermione, a pang of guilt in his chest, before he looked back at Remus.

“I’ve never asked anyone to endanger themselves for me,” Harry said forcefully. “I-It’s not my fault if they do.”

Remus finally turned back to face him and Harry wished he hadn’t, wished he hadn’t said anything at all. He’d never seen such a look of hatred as he saw now on Remus’ face. It made his own anger and hatred at the world seem superficial and childish, faced now with the truth of Remus’ anger- and the first of it being that Remus had been angry for a long time. It seemed to consume him now like a conflagration of disgust and wrath.

“All you ever do is endanger people,” Remus told him, and Harry could tell he’d been wanting to say it for some time. His voice was low and harsh and raw, clenching his jaw and piercing Harry’s eyes with his own. “Sirius’ death was as much your fault as James and Lily’s.”

Harry was crying. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment it started, but now he felt cold tears on his hot face; leaking and falling as he shook. The emotion in his chest which had reached its boiling point, though it no longer felt like loathing or acrimony, surged from him and shot out of his chest towards Remus in a golden flare.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sobbed, though it rightfully came out like begging.

Remus deflected it with a hand and took a step forward with topaz eyes like two jewels under a darkened brow. “I know  _ exactly _ the danger people have been in, voluntarily or not, since the Boy-Who-Lived was born. Can you say the same?”

“Remus Lupin!” 

Professor McGonagall swept into the room with a drafty ironness to her voice and a hardened expression on her face. Everything about her sudden presence and demeanor cut through the air and its thick tension. She glanced first at Harry, who avoided her gaze, and then back at Remus- vibrating with challenge and disappointment. Her timber dropped and quivered with outrage.

“I think that’s quite enough. You are excused.”

In the second she’d entered the room, Remus retreated with his head bowed and his back relaxed again. He was breathing hard, panting, when he answered her. “Of course. Forgive me, professor. I am not myself, and I fear I am not fit for pleasant company.”

For a moment he met Harry’s eyes again, the topaz once more having been replaced with the shiny blue-green of sea glass, and Harry thought he might apologize to him as well- take everything he said back in the way Harry was desperate for him to.

He didn’t.

He looked as though he might. Then he tightened his jaw, lifted his head and left without another word. 

Once he was gone Professor McGonagall came around in light steps to sit in her chair at Harry’s bedside. She patted his hand.

“Please forgive him, Mister Potter,” she said softly. “He is perhaps the one Sirius’ death has hit the hardest. What he said,  _ whatever _ he said, he didn’t mean.”

“Actually, professor, I think it was the most honest anyone has ever been to anyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write. My husband had me pick this prompt and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Original Prompt: Sirius / Remus and/or Sirius & Harry- I'll say just one thing: the battle at the department of mysteries 👀 bonus points if there's a lot of angst related to the fact the Dursleys are abusive and Sirius was Harry's only hope of getting out of there and JSNDNSNCN


End file.
